


For You

by RoseAmaranth



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Hair Braiding, I Ship It, M/M, Makeup, Married Couple, Mizler, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Tea Parties, Teasing, probably...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23035387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseAmaranth/pseuds/RoseAmaranth
Summary: Mike, being a new father to two, wants to practice the things he plans to do with his daughters when they are a bit older. His friends end up being the ones subjected to these little trials, and most of those fall on his best friend Dolph Ziggler. Which is definitely fine with him. Totally.
Relationships: The Miz/Dolph Ziggler, The Miz/Maryse Ouellet
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. Flower Braids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an excuse to write Mike braiding Dolph's hair....
> 
> They make me so soft.

Dolph parked the car and slid on his shades. One of the things he loved about California was how sunny it was nearly all year long. Why they called Florida the sunshine state when California was _right there,_ he would never understand. Especially when it rained there more than it was ever nice. Not like it was today. It wasn't scorching. Nor was it nippy. Perfect.

Today he was spending some of his limited free-time with one of his best friends. He worked nonstop for most of the year; what was one afternoon of kicking around with a pal?

The doorbell rang through the massive house, finally finished after months of Instagram stories and updates from Mike in the group chat. It was beautiful and, of course, styled perfectly by Maryse and the best interior decorators in the country. There was this sprawling garden and even lovely little fruit trees bearing fruits attached to the house. Perfect for a family of now four.

Crazy how things changed so quickly. Wasn't it only yesterday Mike was sweating being a father for the first time? And the day before that they were drinking beers and griping about football to each other at Dolph's place in Arizona. Now he was a proper father, and Dolph resided in two different places he ever only stayed in one evening and half an afternoon. Busier than ever, the both of them.

Still, they hung out when they could. They've been friends for over a decade after all, and went through plenty together. Mike was a great guy – when he wasn't being so...Miz – and they could talk the other's ear off for hours. Which really made time on the road pass in seconds back when they rode together. 

And if there could be any other possible reason why Dolph was holding onto these moments with a vice-like grip, rather than letting time and life pull them apart naturally (as it probably should), he wasn't aware of what it could even be.

He pushed the bell again, barking and a loud voice nearing the door. A butterfly wiggled loose, fluttering around his chest and tickling his rib-cage. He swallowed it down, stuffing it back where it belonged as Mike pulled the door open, sunglasses tucked into the collar of his shirt and pushing the dogs back with his foot. He greeted his friend and followed through the door, taking in the beautiful home. 

Everywhere Mike lived was stunning – inside and out – looking like the insides of the home catalogs some doctors offices had in the waiting room. This place, though? It was something out of a child's dream. 'Impressive' and 'gorgeous' were not close to fitting.

They found themselves in the kitchen. Pumpkin and Mocha trailing along after. Probably hoping they dragged out some food. A cat was on the counter, the pretty white one with sparkling blue eyes, so Dolph stroked her fur while Mike dug around in the cabinets. He always enjoyed his visits to the Mizanin home. Even when nothing more than snacking and cat rubbing happened. 

“It's quiet today.” In a flash, a tray of finger foods was set between them, Mike picking up a cracker with a soft smile. The butterfly was seriously close to being exterminated. He bit into a cracker as well, though a little harder than he meant to. Nearly biting his tongue off. At least Mike didn't seem to notice.

“Yeah, mom and Maryse went out with them. I don't think she trusts us to watch the girls. Not after last time.” Maryse gave them one shot at babysitting the girls while she went shopping with her friend Amanda, and while Dolph thought it went really well, Maryse apparently did not share his sentiment.

It was all fine with him anyway. Babysitting wasn't his most favorite thing. He loved kids and babies, so long as they could be handed back to their parents. And while it was nice seeing daddy Mike in action, it was probably better _that_ be kept to a minimum. Just...for his sanity. 

“They were fine! I mean, yeah, Monroe somehow got into Maryse's makeup when we weren't looking. And maybe we lost Madison in the garden for a little bit. But I'd say we did really well. All things considered.” Mike snorted.

“It's probably smart to keep them away from us. I think you're a bad influence on me.” As _if!_ Between the two of them, Mike was the one getting Dolph into crazy situations more than Dolph ever was. But he rolled his eyes and offered a good-natured smile.

“We'll go with that, buddy. So, tour?” They finished the snacks and Mike showed him around 'Manor MarMiz'. The guest rooms. The living room. The kid's room. Various _other_ rooms. Really, there were just too many for only four people. Especially when two were small children and probably slept in Mike's room anyway. Dolph followed along dutifully, peeking into rooms with brows raised appreciatively and nodding along to whatever Mike was saying. 

“My home gym.” Dolph took in the dolls along the wall on shelves. The scrap of fabric caught in the treadmill. A broken doll on the floor. Weights along the walls. The squat rack. It was a nice setup, actually. He didn't have a home gym, but he wasn't really home enough to have much use for it. He whistled and offered Mike a thumbs up.

“Monroe likes to work out with me sometimes. She's such a great kid.” He had to agree. Monroe was a lot like her father already. It made him wonder how she would turn out. If she would love wrestling like her parents. Maybe Hollywood? Or, would she surprise them all and go in a totally different direction? Kids could be like that.

So he heard.

“She's going to be the most athletic kid in her class. And the most athletic Mizanin.” Mike nudged him in the ribs before continuing along. He took one last peek in the room, at the section cut off by a child gate padded with colorful mats and then at the part Mike obviously used. Maybe he could poke around in it later. Show them what a real workout looked like. Make Monroe laugh and clap her hands. 

Show off a little.

Finally, the tour inside finished, so they moved onto the one outside. The gardens spread out far and wide, fountains and hedges and grass and flowers all around. Mike led them down some stairs and stopped by the gorgeous fountain. Orange trees grew together a few feet away, filling the air with the sweet scent of blossoms, and just behind them was a little playground. This place was fascinating. Amazing.

Okay, he was definitely a bit jealous. But who could blame him?

“This is probably my favorite part of the whole house. Don't tell Maryse.” Dolph and Mike walked along side-by-side, the sunshine shimmering down and inviting the butterflies and bees to dance around them. Flowers popped up in various bushes, Dolph stopping by a few to sniff because what else was there to do when you were looking at flowers.

“It's nice.” They took a turn and stumbled upon a little hidden slice of green; a fountain tucked by the hedges and benches placed strategically in the space. Mike gestured for him to follow and together they sat in the grass. Flowers covered the bushes here, pink and blue standing out against the dark green. They smelled lovely, if not a bit strong.

Mike turned to him, mouth tilting into a smirk and brow arching.

“Wanna see what I've been working on. It's for when Monroe's hair is a bit longer.” He paused, gaze sliding to where his hair was pulled up in a smooth tight bun. “At least as long as yours is. Here, turn so your back is to me.” Nervous butterflies bounced around, but he shifted until they were faced the same way, fingers flexing against his knees while he waited. 

His bun was tugged apart, eyes falling closed as the hair tumbled down past his shoulders, He was due for a cut soon. Mike's fingers gently combed through it, the gesture soothing and almost tender. His cheeks warmed, and it didn't have much to do with the rays of sunlight. Playing with someone's hair was often seen as an intimate activity, one shared between people who had a certain bond. Not really something you do with your bro.

Like he was about to say anything. Dolph could live in this moment for a hundred years and never tire of it. He was all for taking what he could get.

“I had my mom teach me how to do the hairstyle, and then Maryse's sister helped with the flower part. Now I try to practice on anyone I can get my hands on. Sometimes I find myself trying to braid string. I also learned how to make flower crowns from my nieces, and I practice that while Monroe jumps on a trampoline. She doesn't care for my technique, but I'm proud of my work now.” His hair tugged gently, so he arched his neck somewhat uncomfortably to give Mike better access. The nails scratching at his scalp sent shivers down from the crown of his head to the tip of his toe, his fingers tingling and itching to hold something. He peeked open an eye and plucked a flower off a nearby branch, spinning it between his fingers while Mike worked.

Typically, Dolph kept his hair pulled up out of his face – usually like the bun he had when he arrived – and he certainly wasn't against a good old-fashioned braid. He couldn't fashion them himself to save his life, but the lovely ladies in makeup adored working with his hair. For some reason. Adding colored pieces. Braiding it in any style they desired. He didn't really get that...obsession with _hair,_ nor did he understand why they were so fascinated with his in particular, but he wasn't going to begrudge anyone for their interests. 

After all, he was sure a lot of people found his love for politics strange and his passion for wrestling stupid. And he didn't really care much for what happened with his hair anyway. So, he let them go. Because left up to him, it stayed in tight buns until bedtime. 

His head jerked back every so often as Mike slowly weaved his hair into a simple braid style (though he figured the 'Elsa' style would need to be learned soon. Girls were _obsessed._ ), dropping the flower in his hand in favor of staring off at the sliver of sky just above the hedge wall across from him. The tilt was going to make his neck stiff, but he didn't really mind. 

There wouldn't be much he minded at the moment, if he were to be completely honest.

It was quiet, save for a bird calling her mate from a bush and the splash of water in the fountain. The sun was warm against his skin. The ground under him dry and not nearly as hard and uncomfortable as he thought it would be. Oh, what he would give to just lean back, soak in this moment for a rainy day. Take something for himself, even if it wouldn't be accepted the way he wanted. But he knew better than to give into that twisting emotion in his chest. 

He had plenty of practice for moments like this.

Well, okay, not _exactly_ like this. He never anticipated he would be sat in a mystical garden having his hair braided by Mike of all people. But dealing with Mike and his own random bouts of pining was something he's been doing for years. You could call him a pro at being the good best friend. Like at their wedding. Or when he heard a baby was on the way. He deserved an Oscar for his performance. Truly. 

Because, sometimes he wanted to rip his stupid heart out. Drown it. Slam it on a table and glare at everyone until feelings long ignored or pushed aside were finally acknowledged. 

“Almost finished.” His voice was oddly soft – quiet – like he was afraid of trampling on the peaceful moment just by speaking. Dolph sighed, a heavy weight falling off his chest and warmth washing over him once more. He needed to get out of his head and focus more on the moment he was having. Not so much the 'could have beens'. 

“You definitely need the practice. I can't imagine any little girl sitting still this long. And I think my neck is going to get stuck like this.” There was a sharp tug on his hair, Mike grumbling under his breath while he finished working. Dolph just couldn't help the smile that slid across his lips. He loved moments like this. Ones stolen from time and fate's cruel hands. He closed his eyes again, breathing in the scent of nature enveloping them in a world all their own. 

“I think I did a pretty freaking fantastic job with this one. Check it.” His neck was indeed stiff from being in that position so long, so he rolled it left and right while digging out his phone to get a look at the tight braid. Pulling up the camera, snapped a selfie angle of the hair and took a look. The braid was straight, and he didn't see any strands in the braid that were too big or small. It looked good, especially with the pink, purple, and white flowers weaved throughout the blonde strands. It was pretty.

And it was actually good.

“I love it.” He swallowed down some of the fondness creeping into his voice, trying to tame that wave of emotion rising under the sky now dotted with puffy white clouds. Mike really was a great father – a wonderful man too – and it was probably not good that he enjoyed this so much. But he was only human, so he was enjoying himself.

Which would only serve to hurt him. But that was later. 

“Yeah? Great! Thanks for letting me try it out on you. I think I'm finally ready to practice on longer hair. Improve my braiding speed. Because, like you said, she won't want to sit still for so long.” Would it really take him all that long to grow his hair out enough to practice like that on? No, that was just silly. Besides, he hated long hair. It was annoying and expensive to take care of. Especially since he got his treated every couple months.

At least it was long enough he could pull it around to examine, tickling his own nose with the end.

“Will you take a picture from the back? So I can get a good look.” Mike snorted, taking the phone and shifting in the grass.

“Like it that much you have to take a pic? I understand. We Mizanins always make masterpieces.”

“Just take the picture.” He waited a few seconds, not moving so Mike could (hopefully) take a good picture that wasn't blurry. His skills with a camera were often iffy at best. Then his phone was handed back to him and warm hands fell on his shoulders – which were bare except for the skinny fabric of his tank top – as Mike pushed to stand up. He caught a view of Mike above him, stretching, so he quickly turned back to his phone to check the picture. It was good enough for Instagram at least.

“We better get back. I'm sure the girls miss me.” They weaved their way back to the house, Mike blissfully unaware he was already being missed even though they were still hanging out. Before stepping into the house after his friend, he turned back to look over the gardens. He tried to pick out their little spot from where he stood, but it was all just a maze of green to his eyes. 

Well, at least he still had the braid, which he touched with careful fingers so he didn't dislodge any flowers.

“Your hair is really cute, Dolph!” He smiled over at Maryse, tugging the end gently (like he'd been doing all day) when all eyes turned to him. Mike's chest puffed up at his handiwork, Maryse praising the excellent job her husband did with his hair. Monroe clapped and laughed, gasping when Mike leaned forward to whisper in her ear while pointing at Dolph. 

It was a shame he needed to leave. Of course, Mike and Maryse offered him a place to sleep, but he really had somewhere to be. His brother would kill him if he was late.

The Mizanin family was famous for the parties they threw. Always elegant. Always the best food. Everything was taken into account, no penny spared for the entertainment and pleasure of the guests. Dolph stood out in the back yard, sipping a chute of champagne under sparkling fairy lights and twinkling starlight. He couldn't quite remember what they were celebrating this time, but it wasn't like he wouldn't show up regardless. Pumpkin's birthday, the anniversary of planting a tree, recycling...he was there. 

“I see you came dressed to impress.”

And always in good taste.

“You know my signature style.” Mike rolled his eyes and joined him by a new topiary sculpture. A star. There was a table of goodies on the porch many people were gathered around, only a few besides Dolph wandering down to the grass. With good reason; it was a bit chilly out.

“Guess I do. Having a good time?” Like someone couldn't enjoy one of these parties. Mike and Maryse really knew how to dazzle everyone. Even Dolph, who has known them both for a long time. Long enough that nothing they did could really truly impress him. But this? Yeah, this was something else. The house, the gardens, the delicious food....

He's attended quite a few Mizanin parties. And this one was the best one.

“Dude, of course. What's not to love about all this?” He gestured around, the both of them watching a woman smash a cupcake into her date's face. The two laughed a moment before a cake was ruining her makeup. Mike snickered. 

“Those cupcakes were, like, $45 a dozen.”

“Damn. What did your dad think?” Mike turned to him, the lights reflected in his eyes and making them appear...starry. Like the sky above them. He swallowed more champagne to drown the thought.

“Honestly, he doesn't know. And it's probably good that he doesn't. He wouldn't understand, you know.” He glanced towards the table of food. “I barely understand it.” Maryse called out to him and, with a nod to Dolph, he hurried over to her, Took her hand. Spun her close and kissed her, the crowd cheering and clinking their glasses. Whistles ringing out when the couple didn't break up right away. Dolph clapped along, of course he did, but he shared only some of their admiration. And he couldn't help but wonder if there was any envy among the smiles and laughter.

There was at least one, but that was a thought for another day. 

The little hideaway was different at night, and as he sat his champagne glass down he tried to recall how he even found it again in the dark. There were no lights over in this part of the garden. Just silvery moon and icy stars revealing stone benches and the fountain hidden by shadows. He picked his way carefully over to the cement fountain and sat on the edge, splashing his hand in the water before gazing up at the stars. Making wishes and wondering when they would ever align for him. He was a little fuzzy from the champagne and uncomfortably heavy with the emotions and loneliness creeping up on him tonight, but he forced it away and made a whirlpool in the waters. 

“It can't be healthy sitting in the dark part of the garden by yourself.” He nearly fell into the fountain, only just able to save himself from embarrassment and turning wide eyes on Mike, who was standing at the entrance of the space they shared only a few weeks ago. Still dressed in that suit and looking like a million dollars. Though, now, the moonlight (and alcohol) were painting the handsome man in a different light. It hurt to look at him, the _power_ and sex appeal too much for him at the moment. 

He silenced his stupid thoughts and stood, brushing himself off and trying to act like he wasn't just caught moping by the fountain. In the garden. In the dark.

Because that was really ridiculous.

“I just came to, um, think. Why aren't you with the party?” He was certain it was going on still. He didn't know the time, didn't bother to check when he wandered off, but it couldn't even be past midnight yet. Mike watched him for a moment, like he was puzzling through something, and then stuffed his hands in his pockets. Tilted his head.

“I was looking for you.” Again, he nearly stumbled back. He somehow managed only a furrow of his brows. A frown. Damn he was getting good at this. Maybe too good. It couldn't be healthy keeping things so...repressed.

“Oh? The party not the same without the life of it?” Humor flooded across Mike's face, a soft laugh between them.

“Something like that. What are you doing out here by yourself, though? I've never known you to leave a party to sit in the dark.” And just like that, Mike was serious and worried again. He took a seat on one of the benches and stared up at him, waiting. Yep. There were definitely stars sprinkled in his eyes. How could they possibly twinkle without any lights? 

He cleared his throat and gestured around.

“I like long romantic walks in the garden at night? By myself?” Mike should know better than to expect a serious answer from him. He always deflected with humor. His friend laughed again, louder this time, and the sound echoed inside his chest and warmed him like sunshine dumped on him after being cold for so long. He imprinted the sound in his brain for a future time when he needed it. 

“I guess everyone has their thing.” They sat there in the garden, crickets chirping and a frog croaking nearby, the sounds from the party drifting towards them and stabbing holes in their bubble. He turned towards the house, towards the lights in the distance, fingers scratching at the back of his neck. “Ready to go back now? The party needs you.” 

He wasn't ready at all, not looking forward to watching the host and hostess being the cute couple they were, but clearly Mike was on a mission to bring him back. He came all the way out there, after all. So he turned back, heart stuttering to a stop at how Mike looked under the ivory moonlight, and forced a dry laugh. 

“Lead the way.”

“You know, when I found you in the garden, I expected to stumble upon you with one of the party guests. That you disappeared because you were...well, that's what I expected.” The house was quiet now, the guests long gone and everyone who actually lived there asleep. Save for Mike and Dolph, who were on the back porch area. Savoring the night and sharing a beer between them. It was nice. Peaceful. 

He took a swallow of beer and raised a brow. “Really?”

Mike gave him one of those long-suffering sighs. The kind that meant this wasn't going to be a fun conversation. Because Mike only had those when he was worried about something. Or stressed out. He tilted the bottle in his hand and examined it for a few minutes, Dolph biting his lip to keep from saying something stupid. Give the man a moment to gather himself and his words.

“I guess I should say I was _hoping._ Because then I wouldn't find you moping like I did. I would know you're okay. Maybe happy, even if it was only in that moment.” Whoa. Where was all this coming from? He leaned forward and tugged the bottle out of Mike's hands, drinking more and ignoring the way it burned down his throat. The bitter taste in his mouth. The piercing gaze locked on him from only a couple feet away. Studying him. 

Mike was one of those guys who just couldn't stand to see someone left out or upset, and apparently Dolph wasn't as good at hiding his...predicament...as he hoped. Because of course his best friend caught on. Why shouldn't he? Why not bring Maryse out here too so they could both give him that same look. The one that made him want to crawl into a hole and never return.

The bottle hung between his knees, barely kept there by two fingers, and he snorted softly at the moonlit wood porch. Keeping his gaze far away from the perceptive gaze of Mike. Because when he was on a mission – when he wasn't being an asshole and more like the man he was under the flashy clothes and big mouth – he could drill to the center and pull out anything he wanted to know. 

Maybe his defenses, normally so strong and impenetrable, were finally slipping. Nearly two decades of denial and pretending could do that to someone. He was bound to slip eventually. Guess it was 'eventually'.

“Look, man. I don't need to get laid to be happy. The rumor mill can be a cruel liar, Miz.” Deflect. Deflect. Deflect. Unlike earlier, his humor didn't amuse Mike. In fact, his eyes narrowed and his expression darkened. The bottle, nearly to his lips, was stopped by a hand on his wrist. There was that rare bout of seriousness on his face, eyes shimmering with worry.

“Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You're not _dense,_ Dolph.” He blinked at the sharp edge to his words, the growing flare of anger in his usually friendly blue eyes. In over fifteen years, they rarely ever fought. Sure, they bickered. Mike got on his nerves. Dolph did something stupid. Nothing really serious ever happened, but apparently he wasn't going to get out of this with a joke and vague non-answers. “I can see something is bothering you – has been for a while – but I also respect the fact that you clearly don't want to share it with me. And that's okay. I understand.” No, actually, he really didn't. But he was not going to add his two cents. 

“I just want you to be _happy._ You're my best friend- practically family.” A hand grabbed his shoulder, the irritation melting into concern. Pleading. Sincerity. The discomfort under his skin prickled. Made him twitchy, though he fought it so Mike didn't pull away. “Can you just promise me that – should you need a friend to listen and to lean on – you'll remember we're here for you? Whatever you need. We're a brotherhood – you, me, John, and Zack. We have each other.”

Right there, with the fire crackling nearby and the stars watching them from above, he nearly confessed everything weighing him down. Just nearly let the dirty secrets spill out between them and wait for his sentencing. Mike leaned closer- like he was anticipating a secret to fall softly between them and wanted to catch it before the wind carried it away. But he couldn't. Fear – of rejection and of losing their friendship – kept his lips sealed these past few years, and now the knowledge that Mike would feel bad about not returning his feelings and being the one Dolph was hurting over made him double down on that. Shut down and push Mike away.

Mike reached for him again, as if to encourage him, but he pretended not to see it and stood. Stretched out his aching muscles and offered a loud yawn that ended any discussion here. Because he was tired, and he really couldn't stand to sit there another minute more. His defenses were obviously too weak right now, and Mike was just pushing against them relentlessly. Hoping to break through and 'save him'. 

But it wasn't something he could help, so he needed to put distance between them. Just for a moment. 

He turned back to where Mike still sat. Watching him retreat like a coward. Feeling like a shitty best friend, he tried to smile as convincingly as he could to wipe the worry creasing Mike's forehead and carving that deep frown on his handsome face.

“Things are fine. Okay?” And they would... be in the morning. When he wasn't battling alcohol and the bewitching man dressed down in sweats but still so overwhelming. Still so beautiful. “You know I love you guys like my own brothers.” And he did. John and Zack were among the first he called whenever anything happened in his life, and he cared for them as fiercely as he did Ryan and Donny. 

And, sure, it was a little different with Mike. But in many ways, it wasn't. He cared for them like _family,_ and he knew it went both ways with all of them. 

“If anything changes...” The flames still danced, smoke billowing up into the night sky. He smiled and shook his head.

“Stop worrying like a mother hen, Mikey. Let's get some sleep, before _someone_ is too tired tomorrow.”


	2. Pretty Nails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Football, pizza, and nail polish.

It was about two months after the party- and their little heart-to-heart. Dolph leaned back into the soft gray couch occupying Mike's den, sinking in the perfect amount and letting out a content sigh. They were watching the pregame show while waiting for their pizzas and wings to arrive (hopefully before the game started). 

Well, right now it was Dolph watching it alone and Mike off taking care of the girls. Helping Maryse with some things. And it was all fine. He couldn't - and wouldn't - expect things to be how they were; Mike was a husband and father now. Dolph and football were at the bottom of the list when it came to important things in his life now.

He seriously didn't mind. Much.

“Is it really not here yet? Do they still have the rule that you get it free if it's been longer than thirty minutes? Because I'm timing them.” Why was he already standing at the window looking out over the driveway? He was as bad as his dad; even if he wouldn't admit that in a million years. He scoffed and tried to focus on what the panel was saying about the games coming up and playoff standings in each division. 

Which was difficult to do when _someone_ was just standing over there effortlessly looking like those models on the cover of magazines. Like, was it necessary?

“It's barely been ten minutes, drama queen.” Mike turned from the window with a huff, handing over Dolph's chilled beer before dropping next to him and throwing his feet up on the coffee table. “Everything good with the wifey?” He had to snatch his gaze away quickly when Mike decided to drink his beer like those sports ad actors who were, like, in love with their drink or something. 

Something like that really wasn't attractive, and yet... He picked at the label on his own bottle. 

“Yeah. She's off doing stuff with her friends. Mom's watching the girls so we can both have a break today. Do what we want for a little while.” He turned a sunny smile towards him. Was it hot in here? Did he have the heat on for some reason? Thankfully, there was a bowl of chips he could distract himself with, nipping at one and glancing at the television screen. Anything to keep from staring like an idiot. “Like watching football with my best friend. Hanging out.”

“I'm telling John that. He'll be crushed.” Mike snorted.

“Like he doesn't already know. I mean, I love John, but it's not the same.” He took a drink of his beer, sitting up suddenly. “I think I heard the gate. Hang on.” The bottle clicked against the table and he hurried off. Just in time for kickoff. That delivery boy made it just under the buzzer, which was good because Mike was seconds away from having a fit.

“Here. Careful. It's hot.” He helped set the boxes on the table, throwing them open and rubbing his hands together as he looked over the options. Mike sat once more, a breath closer than before, and cleared his throat. Dolph already had a piece of pizza most of the way to his mouth, glancing over and lowering it when he found his friend watching.

“Um, yeah?”

“So, remember when I braided your hair a little while back?” Like he would forget that experience. Firstly, he posted it on Instagram. He received plenty of compliments from everyone at work, who then seemed genuinely surprised when he boasted it was Mike who crafted it. 

Second, it was the product of a special moment between them – without anyone else to ruin his little fantasy – and he wasn't likely to let that go for a while. 

“Well, I need your help again. With something for the girls.”

“I'm not trying anything you make, Michael. Seriously. You're the absolute worst in the kitchen, dude. You're worse than Zack, and he's terrible.” Dolph was a pretty decent chef himself, or so he liked to think, and John could make a thing or two that was delicious. But Mike? He was awful at anything. Basic cooking. Baking. Literally anything in the kitchen.

If anyone found out he had a hand in any meal preparation, they wouldn't touch it. Rightly so, too. One time, he helped make some chicken dish and gave everyone food poisoning. At a party. Where he was the host. That was an absolute nightmare.

“No.” He shook his head quickly, laughing as he turned red around the ears. “Nothing like that. I swear. Maryse and mom take care of all that. No, actually, it's something....else.” Okay. That was vague. But as long as he wasn't at risk of dying, he was okay with whatever it was.

Probably. 

“Well, what is it?” Mike shifted and produced two small bottles in pretty colors. Nail polish. What the-? Of all the things he thought might be thrown his way...this was not one of them. Not that he cared about having his nails painted or anything – he really couldn't care less – but it was just surprising coming from him. Unexpected.

“Wait. You want to paint my nails? What, Maryse won't let you practice on hers? What about yours?” The colors – a shimmering royal blue and a gentle grass green - would look nice together, but he wasn't really sure if he wanted his nails gunked with paint. Especially if this was going to be Mike _practicing._ That would probably mean there would be a mess. 

“I asked Maryse and she held up her freshly manicured hands. So that was a bust. And have you ever tried painting your own nails? It was a disaster. I figured trying them out on someone else would help me get good enough to paint Monroe's when she's bigger. Like, of course Maryse could do it, but I don't want to not know how.” He fiddled with the bottles, smiling down at them. “I want to do everything possible to be the best dad. You know?”

He didn't really, but he could see it meant a lot to Mike. So he sighed and bit into the pizza. 

“Okay. But, um, please try to stay in the lines.”

They sat on the floor, Mike on one side of the coffee table and Dolph on another. He shook the blue paint first, a little metallic rattling coming from it before Mike grabbed his right hand and pulled it over closer so he could examine his nails. The game was well underway, so at least there was something to do while his dominant hand was being held hostage. The sharp scent of polish hit his nose, something cool and wet swiping over his thumb nail.

Well, that didn't look too bad. Just a little on his skin, but considering Mike's hands were big for the tiny brush, it was decent. 

The coat was finished and then the green bottle was being shaken. He picked up another slice, struggling to tug it free with his left hand and then just ripping it out when he got sick of messing with it, and leaned back against the couch to watch the game. Not quite the afternoon he had in mind, but it was fine anyway. 

“There. I'd say that's not too bad.” Before Dolph could hold up his hand to look, Mike took it carefully in his hand and blew across the wet nails gently. Every hair on his body stood up, and he nearly snatched his hand away without thinking. Look, he said he wasn't against having his nails done; he didn't say he's ever actually had them done before. That was not expected at all.

And what was wrong with him, thinking it was kind of, like, sexy? Weirdo. 

“There. First coat done. How do they look?” He finally got a peek and, well...they weren't terrible. All of his nails were blue, shimmering in the sunlight from the window, except for his ring finger, which was a pretty shade of green. Strange, but it wasn't like he had to keep it on for the rest of his life. He was just helping a friend out.

“Not bad. And what do you mean 'first coat'?” Mike reached for his left hand, the position uncomfortable because it was crossing his body. He shifted so he was leaning his side against the table, and yeah his neck would have to crane a bit to see the game, but it wouldn't be for long. Hopefully.

“Well, according to Amanda, when you do nails it's best to have two or three coats to make sure there is full coverage. And I want to do this right. You're cool with that, right?” He was close to touching the nail on his left thumb, but his gaze was directed at him. Waiting. 

Like he could actually say 'no' to him. He was too damn easy.

“Go crazy. Just, um, I probably should have asked before you got started but...there is a way to get this off, right?” The brush swept across his nail and Mike hummed.

“I think so. I can ask one of the many women I know who get their nails done.” Silence once more, Mike painting with a charming amount of concentration, cool air running over his hands before moving on to the next nail. Could he maybe stop doing that? Or at least do it like they did in the salons he's gone to with some of his friends at work, scrolling through Twitter while they got their work done. Just a quick rush of air before moving them to some ultraviolet drying device. 

Not this...soft little stream of air. 

He stretched his legs out and rolled his neck back and forth, already cramping up from his neck down to his waist. How did women do this all the time? Sitting for so long, left hand extended out to Mike, who was holding it up in his own and swiping the brush over the nails painstakingly slow, was making him feel restless. Jittery. And if Mike did not _stop_ doing that. 

“There! Already better than the first. I just needed to slow down a little.” Once again he blew across his fingers, Dolph shifting his legs to distract himself. The smell of the polish was giving him a headache, and he really wanted to stretch his legs now, so when Mike let him have his hand back, he stood immediately and stretched. Twisted his arms over his head and tensed his back muscles out, reaching up for the ceiling before collapsing down and rolling his shoulders. His neck. Twisting his torso back and forth. 

He paused when he noticed Mike looking up at him. There was apprehension clear on his face, and he was biting his lip like he was trying to keep from saying something. He's seen that look a million times from his mother.

“Why are you watching me like there's a teacup on my head and I'm seconds from breaking it?” He placed his hands on his hips and raised his brow, Mike flinching when he did so.

“Your nails won't be dry for a bit. You might mess them up.” There really was a lot women went through to look the way they did. He held his hands up, palms facing in, and rolled his eyes.

“Can me and my nails go out and stretch my legs for a minute?” Mike snorted and closed the caps to the polish.

“Go crazy! Just have those nails back at a decent time. I want to finish them and give us time to figure out how to get it off. Although, they do look pretty cute.” Pumpkin trotted into the room, glancing between them and sneezing. “You're next, Pumpkin!”

In the end, they couldn't find out how to get the polish off his nails. Maryse wasn't answering, and Mike couldn't get his mother on the phone, so they had to let it be until they went to a show and could ask the makeup ladies to help him out. Which was fine. He didn't plan on doing much anyway, and it wasn't like it was a terrible job anyway. 

Monroe was fascinated by his hands, picking them up in her small ones and examining them with her eyes and fingers. And with the colors on the tips (which was throwing him off every so often because he kept forgetting they were painted), she wouldn't stop messing with them. He picked up the remote and changed the channel, the little girl taking his fingers and pulling them in opposite directions. Which hurt. But he didn't say anything to her.

He's endured worse. 

Mike and Maryse went out to take the dogs to the vet, so he figured he could sit and watch something on the television with Monroe. Madison was with Mike's mom, so at least he didn't have to also look after a baby. He didn't think Maryse would be so easy to convince if Madison was there anyway.

“Why?” She was just getting to talking, and when he looked over at her, she was poking his fingernail. “Why?”

“Your daddy colored them for me.” She seemed to think about that for a minute, studying them closely. 

“Daddy?” Kids at this age were just the cutest. You wouldn't catch him having one of his own, though. He was holding out as long as possible, enjoying the freedom of being a single man with no children. 

Getting to play with Monroe was more than enough for him, really. 

“Mhm. See? Pretty, right?” He settled back as another episode of some kid show started up. And when Mike returned some time later, Maryse getting to work on dinner, and sat on Monroe's other side, she grabbed his hand and examined them. 

“She's been doing that for hours. Her mind is blown, I think.” She held both of their hands now, face scrunched up and then she turned to Mike. 

“Why no?” When he merely stared at her, she shook his finger and asked him again. Dolph couldn't hold in a chuckle. She yanked Dolph's hand over, grumping up at her father. “Why no pwetty?” 

“Oh. I don't like it. No like it.” He shook his head and gave her a dramatic face. And Mike wondered why she was so expressive. It was clear she favored him in a lot of ways. “One day, your nails can be pretty too!” Dolph shook his head, going back to the show. Some cat...person...thing was trying to teach him French. 

Monroe and Mike continued having a conversation; well, Monroe was mumbling and not making much sense with her limited vocabulary, but Mike was answering as earnestly as if she'd spoken perfect English. 

“Dinner is ready.” They all turned to Maryse, Monroe leaping off the couching and reaching out to her mother. This really was a cute little family. And though he knew he wasn't, he felt like he was intrusive. Like a thorn stuck in your foot. And he was about to excuse himself when Monroe called to him, drawing everyone's attention.

“Pwetty!” She pointed at his hands, Maryse bursting out with laughter. 

“Tell me how that happened. Oh my...I swear.” She went into a long line of French, a lot of it jumbling together. 

And later, before he went to sleep in the guest room, she helped him remove the paint, shaking her head when he told her why Mike was painting his nails while they watched football. 

“That man.” She continued giggling softly while rubbing cotton balls over his nails, the colorful paint rubbing away.


	3. Scary Sherri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just two guys, a tea party, and a woman's extensive makeup collection.

The minute the door opened and Dolph got a good look at the man on the other side, he wanted to grab his phone and take a picture. And then run for his car, because this scene only spelled trouble. And he was not looking for that at the moment, thank you. 

Mike had makeup smudged on his face – heavy smoky blue billowing past his eyebrows and blood-red lipstick painting him up like the joker more than anything – a pink feather boa around his neck and a little crown nestled in his hair. Dolph tried to covered his laugher with his hand, smother it in a faux cough, but Mike only waved him in with a roll of his eyes. The house was oddly still, like no one lived in it, and it hit him that Mike was home alone.

Looking like those little boys who play in their mother's makeup and then raid her closet. 

“Does Maryse know you put on her makeup when she leaves?” They ended up in the living room area, Mike kneeling down by the coffee table along with a large stuffed bear and a family of dog toys. 

“I'm having a tea party, in case you can't tell.” He could. But that still didn't explain the amount of powder and wax on his face. The colors were atrocious. He looked scary, like an evil witch. 

“Your makeup is going to make the guests think it's a costume party rather than an elegant get-together.” That ridiculous face pouted up at him. He couldn't hold it in anymore- he burst out laughing.

“Yeah. Yeah. _So_ funny. And you could do better?” He crossed his arms and examined the...work that Mike made on his face. Yeah, he could definitely do better than _Scary Sherri._

“I definitely can.” Mike excused himself from his 'guests' and stood, brushing himself off before gesturing towards the long hallway leading to his room.

“Prove it.”

“How is it possible I look worse than I did when we started?” He stared at his reflection in the vanity mirror, flinching as he pulled off one of those fake lashes Dolph stuck on him. Okay, so he wasn't any good at whatever it was Maryse had, but with basic stuff, he wasn't too bad. 

“Maybe you're just too ugly for makeup, bro.” Mike shot him a glare and pulled several wipes from a little bag on the vanity.

“Maybe you're just shitty at this. Help me get it off. My skin feels disgusting.” In only ten minutes, Mike's face was mostly back to normal. Some of that red lipstick remained, staining his skin and refusing to budge no matter how hard or how long he scrubbed at it. 

“Why do you need makeup on for a tea party anyway? It's not like you normally wear that.” They cleared up the mess and headed back to the living room. 

“It's a tea party with _princesses._ Obviously I wear makeup.” Was that something obvious? Dolph picked up one of the dogs, petting the fuzzy toy and raising a brow.

“Well, maybe have a princess makeup artist do it, then. Because I don't think you would be getting any prince to dance with you looking like _that._ ” He knelt down by the table, picking up the little pink teapot and looking inside it. He imagined Monroe and Madison standing there, scolding Mike for drinking incorrectly or reminding everyone to keep their pinkies up. It was cute.

“Excuse me. I am the fairest in the land. Princes would be lined out the castle door for the chance to dance with me. Terrible makeup or not.” He leaned closer to the pile of dogs, stage whispering, “At least until Princess Ziggler showed up and put me in his shadow.” 

“You're an idiot. Are we fucking having tea or not?” Scandalized, Mike hurried to cover the ears of a small dog toy.

“Princesses don't swear! Where are your manners?” He never thought in his nearly forty years of life this would be how he was spending a Saturday afternoon, but it wasn't all bad. Dolph got a boa and tiara of his own, the two of them clinking teacups and speaking with the worst British accents possible. Really, they were bad.

At least there was real food to eat, though he was scolded constantly for not eating 'like a princess'. How the hell was he supposed to know what that even meant? He didn't know the first thing about royalty, let alone being a princess. So, he finally flipped Mike off and stuffed three sandwiches in his mouth, the two of them falling into fits of laughter after. And of course Dolph helped him clean up everything, hiding a stain with the table. Maryse wouldn't notice. Probably.

“I'm going to need to practice that makeup more. I'll have to help the little princesses with theirs soon enough. At least until they are old enough to do it themselves. I can definitely wait for that day.” When Dolph raised a brow in question, Mike frowned and gave him a pointed look. “Makeup means _boys._ You remember how we were as teenagers- monsters.” That was definitely true. Boys were a menace up until they reached about...

Well, okay, it didn't really go away. In his experience, anyway.

“Hey, don't they have makeup tutorial videos or whatever? Where they tell you how to use all that junk?” 

He stared at his face in the mirror, not at all pleased to be the canvas for Mike's....art. He painted with a heavy hand, eye shadow still too dark and he looked more like Donald Trump than a bronzed beauty. Mike stood back, looking from the phone screen to Dolph's face, and shook his head with a low grunt. 

Maybe he should start rethinking coming over to _Manor MarMiz._ It took Maryse forever to get that nail polish off from last time. The braid was nice enough, but this? He looked like if Trump and a clown somehow had a baby that wanted to be a drag queen. He loved the man, he did, but there was a line. A limit. And this horror show was edging towards it. 

“I don't get it. I followed him exactly. Same colors and everything. You look nothing like this,” he showed Dolph the screen, and yeah. He really looked nothing like that. 

“Let's switch for a while. I'm tired of having you jab my eye with wands and pencils.” Mike snorted and sat on the bench, eyes closed and head tilted up. Ignoring the sudden tightness in his chest, he took the phone and started the video from the beginning. Unlike Mike, who seemed only to watch for the general movements and products, he examined the technique the man used while explaining what he was doing. The gentle way he evened out the foundation. The minimal use of bronzer (which Mike really needed to note because yowza). 

The eye makeup would be the most difficult, so he watched it over a couple times before finally setting the phone on the vanity, playing from the beginning, and hopefully he would be able to follow along. He paused, brush in hand, when he turned to find Mike watching him with a tilt to his mouth. There was a...peculiar look on his face. One he's never seen before, and it startled him to a stop. 

“What?” Mike shook his head, chuckling softly, and waving for him to continue.

“Nothing. Let's just get this over with. Maybe instead of a tea party, we could just host clown shows in the living room.” Dolph snorted, dabbing the foundation on his finger and smearing it across Mike's skin. Being this close, touching him in this way, had his heart pounding against his sternum. And he was probably blushing head to toe. But he continued on, making sure to get every inch of skin in a smooth blanket of the cream before reaching for the bronzer and brush. Light movements. Blow the excess off. Light movements. Dab. Blow. 

He didn't anticipate liking this as much as he was, but it was kind of like creating a masterpiece. Slowly his art was coming to life in the swipe of a brush across Mike's cheek. Unlike the orange crust on Dolph's skin, Mike looked tanned. Bronzed, the way it was _meant_ to look. He was pretty proud of that, and moved on to the eyes. Smoky seemed too easy to get wrong, so he went for a lighter color – a pinky-orange color named 'California Sunrise' – and carefully brushed it across Mike's eyelid. He leaned closer to examine his work, biting his lip when his heart jumped into his throat. 

“I can feel you staring.” He nearly leaped away when Mike spoke, hand pressed to his chest and brush somewhere on the ground. An eye popped open, a smirk sliding on his face.

“That's not _funny._ Geeze. Almost gave me a heart attack, you know.” Mike seemed to disagree, though at least he covered up the laugh by coughing and clearing his throat. Shaking his head, Dolph leaned down and picked up the brush that fell from his fingers. Steadying himself with a long breath, he continued his work. The other eye was a little tricky because of the angle, but awkwardly crouching in front of him seemed to help. 

“I think this may be the best job. Better than the guy in the tutorial.” With a snort, Mike opened his eyes and tilted his chin to the side. Pouting his lips and winking up at him, which flustered him so much he clamped the case of makeup too quickly and pinched his skin in it.

“I admit. This is a pretty fantastic job. Okay, you're hired as my princess makeup artist. And you can help me with Monroe and Madison when they're older.” He waved his hand back and forth, the pain wearing off. 

“Wipe that shit off before Maryse has us committed. Her stuff is probably really expensive.” After cleaning up the mess they made, Dolph skipping the little wipes and washing his face in the sink, water a copper color as it swirled down the drain. 

Seriously. What the hell. 

They were sitting on the porch, staring out over the gardens and watching the dogs play in the grass. Dolph sipped his iced tea, a hint of the summer heat poking through the cloud cover and making him wish he had shorter hair. And shorts on. Mike rocked in a rocking chair he moved out there, throwing a toy Mocha brought to him every so often. 

“You know what I was thinking?” Apparently, these days, he had no idea. Hesitantly, he set his glass down and sighed.

“Not usually.” Mike snorted.

“Well, wouldn't it be funny if we made, like, a makeup channel. And did people's makeup – like from work or whatever – and put it online? I mean, imagine. I'm terrible at it. That would be so funny to watch!” Not this again. He could still feel the thick layer of foundation and bronzer on his skin. And he was pretty sure there was mascara in his lashes he couldn't remove. 

“You're insane.” He couldn't see anyone they knew wanting to have their face stabbed by Mike, much less have him attempting to do their makeup completely, but he couldn't deny how funny it would be. He shook his head and picked up the ball Pumpkin dropped that rolled over to him. 

“Well of course I am. But that makes it better!” A butterfly fluttered across the sky as he leaned back and stared up at the blue breaking through the fluffy clouds. He loved how beautiful it was here. How at peace everything felt. 

“Are you going to add your nail-painting and hair-braiding skills?” He shook his head again, snorting, when Mike spit his drink out and coughed. Idiots. They were idiots. 

“You're brilliant! A real star in the making, ladies and gentlemen. Stick with me, kid, and you'll go far.” He waited until the perfect moment, and then dumped Mike out of the chair.

**Author's Note:**

> _I'd do anything for you._   
>  _To be with you._   
>  _And I know you don't feel the same_   
>  _And that I'm wasting my time_   
>  _But I would bring the stars down to the ground_   
>  _For You_


End file.
